Made Man
by nikashirman
Summary: As Don of the Italian Mafia, Christian Grey believes that he has it all. When he meets college student Anastasia Steele, however, he knows that there is something missing from his life of luxury. He needs to have her, and have her he will. NO BDSM. HEA.
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer**

I do not own _Fifty Shades_ nor any of its characters. The plot of "Made Man" is an original creations of mine, however. I do not in any way, shape, or form profit from "Made Man" or through the use of anything belonging to _Fifty Shades_ , the rights of which belong to E. L. James.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey, lovelies! I'm so excited to begin "Made Man!" This is my first fanfiction of the** **Fifty Shades and of the mafia variety, and I cannot wait to see where it takes me. If any of you are interested, I would love to have a beta reader (please let me know through PM if interested). I hope you guys enjoy "Made Man" and stick around to see where it leads.**

 **I do not own Fifty Shades nor any of its characters. The plot of "Made Man" is an original creations of mine, however. I do not in any way, shape, or form profit from "Made Man" or through the use of anything belonging to Fifty Shades, the rights of which belong to E. L. James.**

* * *

His eyes glided over women as they passed him, each batting their eyelashes and jutting out their breasts.

Christian Grey sipped Dom Pérignon, amusement dancing in his eyes at the ladies' failed attempts of seduction.

At 28 years of age, he already had more to his name than the majority of people would have after ten lifetimes. As the CEO and owner of Grey Enterprises Holdings, the facade through which he ran his more illicit activities as the Don of the Italian Mafia, he had amassed billions of dollars and untold luxury.

Christian looked away from the sea of ladies parading in front of him, catching a glance of beautiful powder blue eyes.

The woman who the eyes belonged to pushed a strand of loosely curled, dark brunette hair away from her face as she weaved gingerly through the throng of bodies gathered in the ballroom, moving his way.

Christian's smirk faded from his face when the beauty made no attempt at gaining his regard, moving past him. He caught a faint trace of lavender as her hair brushed his shoulder, when the woman tripped over herself, toppling into him and spilling his champagne over his Ermenegildo Zegna Bespoke suit.

"I am so sorry, sir," the woman apologized, glancing up at him through long lashes.

If this had happened at any other time, with anyone else Christian would have made sure that they regretted ruining his $28,000 suit, but he couldn't bring himself not to forgive the owner of the enchanting blue eyes.

"You didn't mean it. It really is no problem Miss-"

The woman blushed, looking down and hiding her perfect blue eyes from his gaze, "Anastasia, Anastasia Steele."

"Christian Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you," he pressed a kiss to the delicate skin of her hand, "I haven't seen you at the Coping Together Gala before."

"It's my first time attending," Anastasia admitted, "I'm a college student, galas aren't exactly within my price-range."

"Education major?" Christian guessed.

"English lit, actually."

Christian hummed, "Was it Charlotte Brontë, Jane Austen, or Thomas Hardy?"

"What?"

"Was it Charlotte Brontë, Jane Austen, or Thomas Hardy who first made you fall in love with literature?" He repeated.

"Hardy. _Tess of the d'Urbervilles_ has been my favorite book since I first started reading classic literature," she convicted.

"I would have guessed Jane Austen."

"Don't get me wrong, I do love her works," Anastasia retorted, "There's just something about the primanism and humanity Hardy can convey."

"So, you like it primal-" Christian's cell phone cuts off their conversation.

"Grey," he barks into the receiver.

The voice of Jason Taylor, his CPO, comes over the speaker, "A group of Puerto Ricans was spotted pulling up near the gala, all armed."

"Fuck!" Christian gripped Anastasia and began making his way to exit the gala, pulling her with him, "Bring around the R8, secure the perimeter around the hall, and call-up extra security for Mia and my parents. I want the Puerto Ricans taken down, make them regret even thinking about shooting up the family. Do whatever you think it'll take."

"Yes, sir."

"What's happening?" Anastasia breathed.

"The fucking Puerto Ricans! Stay near me, we're getting out."

"The Puerto Ricans?"

"Yes, they've been itching to strike against me for months," Christian growled.

"Strike against you?"

"Yes, yes. You're a New Yorker, don't tell me you don't know about the underground scene here."

Anastasia hesitated, "Underground?"

"You know, the mob."

"You-you're in the mafia?" She stuttered.

Christian grinned, eyes glinting as they made their way outside to the waiting car, "Baby, I am the mafia."

* * *

 **First chapter down! That was quite difficult, actually. I have so many ideas about what I want to do with "Made Man" but it's so though to actually get them down on paper (or the computer) the way I want. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and please do not forget to review.**


	3. Chapter 2

As Christian guided her into the grey sports-car that waited for them by the curb Anastasia attempted to put together her thoughts. Earlier that day she expected to maybe spend a few hours at the function, chatting with her best friend Kate Kavanaugh, whose last name was the only reason Anastasia was even attending, before heading home early and curling up with a good book and some tea. Now, however, she was getting into an unknown car with an unfairly attractive stranger who was apparently in the mafia — or the Boss if she went by his previous remark.

"Look, Mr. Grey, clearly I shouldn't be here. I wasn't planning on staying this long anyway. I can just go-" Christian's hand on her thigh stopped her train of thought in its place.

"It won't be safe. The Puerto Ricans most likely had surveillance on me for the entire night, they've definitely made you by now. If you leave, chances are that you'll end up in an alley with a bullet in your head simply to get to me," he pauses, briefly turning his attention from the road to her face, noticing the glimmer of tears in her eyes, "None of that, baby. You're not getting hurt on my watch. We're heading to down to Central Park, I have an apartment in Escala by there."

His hand reached out and wrapped around Anastasia's interlacing their fingers and nothing more was said for the entirety of their drive.

* * *

Christian pulled into Escala's garage. From her brief glimpse of the skyscraper, Anastasia could already tell that she did not belong. The building consisted of entirely floor to ceiling one-way glass windows which glinted faintly in the moonlight and stretched up higher than her line of sight out of the R8's window.

They parked in a secluded corner, an Audi Q7 SUV on one side of the car and an Escalade on the other, all with plaques stating _RESERVED FOR PH96_ in front of them. Christian was out of the car and opening her door before she could finish gaining her bearings. Stepping out of the car, Anastasia stood on shaking legs which promptly gave out from under her. Ignoring her protests, Christian scooped her up, walking across the garage, holding her bridal-style close to his chest whilst waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"I'm okay, Christian," she intoned, "You can let me down now, it was just a bit of shock."

He smirked down at her as the elevator arrived and its doors opened, "No can do. I find that I quite like holding you, Anastasia."

As they entered the elevator, Christian pressed the button for the 96th floor (the highest apparently), after entering a code proving that he did, in fact, reside in the penthouse. The air around them charged. Glancing up at him through her lashes, Anastasia bit her lip, " _No man should look that good_ ," she thought.

Christian reached down, releasing her lip from the hold of her teeth, "Stop biting your lip. It makes me want to do things that shouldn't be done in the elevator."

"What if I want you to do them?" Anastasia craned her neck, reaching to bring his lips down to hers from her place nestled against his chest.

Christian's devoured her mouth and time seemed to have stopped. She could feel the warmth of his arms embracing her and the sensuous taste of his mouth enticed her for more. Their bliss came to an abrupt end as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened.

"Damn! There's just something about elevators," Christian's eyes smolder, gazing into hers as they stepped out.

* * *

 **I'm back! Sorry for the wait, I had a little case of writer's block (yes, after only a chapter) and was a bit pre-occupied during Spring Break. Hopefully, I will be able to update regularly from now on. Thanks, Loves!**


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